Friends
by jle1993
Summary: Hermione burns for her...  Femslash


Disclaimer: I don't own Ginny or Hermione, I'm just...playing with them ;-)

A/N: This completely ignores the relationships in the last book, especially those in that silly epilogue. =)

**Friends**

She is intoxicating. An addiction. I need her scent invading my senses, need the faint musk burnt over roses. She makes me forget just by being near me, letting me inhale, letting her fill me.

Not that she knows she is.

I'm ashamed of myself. I take advantage of her every time I'm by her side – I can't help myself. Her breath gives me life and I am her slave; if only she would use me then I'd repay everything.

If I were braver I'd tell her, would beg her to call me account for my debt – but I'm a coward. Fearful of being cast aside again. Better to dig a deeper hole where I can still see her flame.

Is it really so terrible of me?

I'd been cold for so long after the war, and she thawed me. I would do anything for her, except let her go, and even if she doesn't know to command me I still strive for her happiness.

She sustains me with her smell, her image; with every casual touch I fall, with every friendly taste of her cheek – I take advantage and I'm horrid for it, wretched – if she knew I think I'd die.

I know she will never return these tainted feelings, for I'm dirty and low at her feet, lucky to be as near as I am, and so I hide in the guise of a sympathetic smile, glutting myself with her presence.

She must never know.

I give her everything I can just to see her smile. Her joy is my joy, her sorrow is my sorrow, and I burn for her!

I'm a horrible person!

I call her friend, accept the same name – but I want her! I want to taste her hot fire against me, I crave her, desperately, the same fix isn't enough, was never going to be enough!

She gave up on the unattainable, but I cannot. Every lover she takes I curse with the same lips that gush congratulations, my duplicity knows no bounds. With one face I listen to her tales of conquest, with another I break the night as I cry her name.

When I'm with her I'm a rock, I give her stability and shelter even from my own storms. She values me for that, I'm her safe harbour in between adventures of the heart. If only she knew the treasure of my chest is already hers, that she has no need for another.

She will never know though, will never see. To her the offering would appear cheap, tarnished and worthless. Muddy.

I am nothing.

I long to be her everything, as she is mine...but she isn't mine, is she?

If she were then I would be able to claim her!

My blood scorches my veins, the mere thought of what I would do with her! My fingers blazing across her skin as hers would do the same, leaving embers of warmth in the wake of desperate caresses. My mouth would capture her lips, then the rosy peaks of her breasts, my tongue torturing one as my fingers roll the other – her hand in my hair as she cries my name! Rocking her hips in needful gyrations, my thigh soaked with her, teasing, and I'd grab that tight ass of hers and pull her closer, surrounding her, consuming her!

She would be mine, unable to think or say any different as she pants, her nails sharp down my back, making me bleed for our desire, making me scream as she drags me up to swallow the sound, rolling us, merging us as I cling and moan, lost as we combine as we should before she rises up, eyes bright and pleading!

I'd slide into her so deeply, to the last knuckle, and she'd gasp as if I were her first, and it'd drive me insane. I'd try to be slow but she'd ride me and urge me on until I can't help but to pound into her, thrusting with the power of my yearning, pushing up with an arching body as my other hand pulls her down with a wanton hand at her waist.

She'd tighten around me, spilling onto me as my name spills from her lips, my fingers curling inside her as she cries out louder. My first instinct would be to taste her pleasure, my reward, but she'd whimper and hold me like I was all that kept her together.

I'd withdraw carefully, easing her discontent by sliding us together again, and we'd fit so well as I cradle her against me. With my clean hand I'd stroke her hair, the other wrapped protectively around her, and I'd be content in a way I know can't exist in reality.

She isn't mine.

Her voice doesn't call mine, her eyes don't melt with tenderness at the thought of me. It's always for someone else.

She sustains me, but god, she's killing me inside...and she doesn't even know!

To her I'm a friend. She trusts me – when her gorgeous greens cloud I hold her 'til they rain. She knows I'll always be there for her.

If only she knew why.

I watch her time and again, see what she puts herself through, and all I can do is pick up the pieces because I'm too much of a coward to keep them.

I'm despicable.

I could stop this. Stop her pain and my own longing if I could only pluck up the courage to tell her the truth.

I don't want to be her friend, I never wanted to be her friend – I can't do it and I can't keep pretending that I can, it's not enough any more. She's everything to me, and I love her. I want her to love me too.

I need her, and I need to tell her.

Tonight.


End file.
